The next few minutes were a blur of motion that scarcely caught my attention. I stood in the ruins of the ballroom and watched as the thugs were cleared away and the French garrison arrived. Some of the embassy staff had shadowed the hostage takers until they reached one of the viewing platforms, where a small airship had pulled close alongside. The dragon had taken his captives and Lady Hermiter aboard, and then they were gone.
Patricia came to me, with Moses leaning on her arm. The Marshall looked much the worse for wear, with his rough American clothing scorched at the edges, and limping as he walked. He gave me a sympathetic look. “You did your best, Kingsley.”
“It was not enough.” My grip tightened around Damocles, feeling entirely useless. “He got away.”
Patricia opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Prince Albert appeared, his face twisted with desperate rage. “You! You were supposed to protect them!”
“He tried, no thanks to you.” The Prince turned to give Patricia an incredulous stare, but she continued as if she was entirely unaware that she was speaking to the consort of the Queen. “If you hadn’t interfered, we might have taken care of everything that needed to be done.”
The Prince looked at her for a moment longer, as if surprised she had even dared speak. Then he spoke in a low voice. “I did as I saw fit. You have no right to question my decisions.”
“We’ll just have to see about that.” She met his stare with one of her own.
“That’s enough, Patricia. He’s right.” They both turned to look at me, and I shook my head in shame. “Devonshire was my responsibility, my enemy to face, and I failed. Now what can we do?”
A high, twittering laugh caught my attention. “You stand tall and fight, little spy. What else?”
I turned to Soares, who was busily cleaning her blade on the uniform of one of the false bodyguards. She shrugged. “He isn’t quite gone, now is he? The airship he took is a civilian model; it won’t leave London before nightfall. We can catch him.”
“No. I forbid it.” At Prince Albert’s angry command, I felt my muscles stiffen, and he continued in a stiff voice. “Your interference will only endanger my children. I want them to be safe.”
“Safety is often a luxury we cannot afford, Prince.” It was Louis, who had apparently managed to survive the conflict intact. He bowed deeply, though the respect in his voice did not quite reach his tone of voice. Curiously, he exchanged a quick look with Patricia, and nodded to himself when she smiled.
Prince Albert rounded on him. “You’ll stay out of this. The man has my children, and this is not your realm to govern.”
“Nevertheless, as the crime was committed onboard our embassy, and the assassins sought the life of our Emperor, we feel some measure of responsibility for the event, and would love to lend our assistance if possible.” Louis straightened from his bow, and then glanced back at the Emperor, who had thus far remained aloof from the conversation. The noble dragon nodded, and Louis turned back to me. “And of course, we feel that there must be an appropriate reward for the man who has done his best to keep us all from harm.”
The Prince opened his mouth to respond, and then paused, a curiously uncertain look on his face. “A reward? What are you talking about?”
“I hope you will forgive me, Your Grace, but this is not a matter that concerns you directly.” Louis turned from the Queen’s consort and addressed me directly. “Hector Kingsley, I believe your name was? The Emperor has a gift for you, out of consideration for your service. If you would please kneel?”
At this remark, the Prince responded in vicious fashion. “You can’t! I don’t allow it.”
“Your commands are for your own realm, Prince. This embassy is mine.” The Emperor’s voice was strong, and if he still felt the combative rage that had driven him moments before, it was now well hidden. He strode across the deck to me, his eyes very level as he considered me. Despite the situation, I felt my grip tighten around Damocles. It was against my nature to stand so close to a man of such dangerous potential and not challenge him, but I managed to restrain myself.
Then, to my shock, he held out his hand. “Your sword, Mr. Kingsley.”
Uncertain, I looked around, seeing a wide array of expressions, ranging from stunned helplessness on Prince Albert’s face to barely concealed pride on Soares’. Yet it was Patricia’s face that stood out to me, and when I met her eyes, she nodded encouragement.
On the strength of that alone, I reached out and handed the blade to him. For a moment, I almost expected the sword to turn on him, given its namesake. Yet the sword did not even seem to tremble as he lifted it to examine the quality. He looked at me, and command entered his voice once more. “Kneel, Hector Kingsley.”
I knelt, and felt the flat of my own swordblade touch first one shoulder, and then the next. The beginnings of true shock went through me as he spoke. “Hector Kingsley, je vous nomme member de la legion d’honneur. Lève-toi, chevalier!”
“Merci, votre grace.” The words came unbidden to my lips, and I paused for a moment to wonder where I had learned them. Despite that, I stood, and the Emperor returned my sword to me. I felt less uncertain now, and the Emperor of France smiled at me, somehow far less threatening, and far nobler than before. The temptation to strike out at him and end his tyranny was gone now, and I could not for the life of me explain why.
Patricia was the next to speak. “So, a baron of Germany, a deputy Marshall, and a member of the French Legion of Honor. An interesting mix.” She glared at Prince Albert for reasons beyond me. “Sounds like he’s nobody’s tin soldier at the moment. He can do as he pleases.”
“Yet not without my blessing, I think.” The voice came from nowhere, echoing around the empty ballroom as if from a ghost. I looked around reflexively and thought that I caught a hint of movement from near the wreckage of the table. “If you would lend me your sword as well and kneel once more, Sir Kingsley, I believe I have something of thanks to offer you.”
Prince Albert’s face knotted up in consternation for a moment, and then he sighed in visible surrender. “I hope you know well what you are doing, my Queen.”
“I always have, my love. Do not fret so.” There was another hint of movement, and then a shimmer of air in front of me, as a translucent image of the Queen of England appeared. As a shade, the Queen rarely appeared in public, and it must have been an effort to reveal herself to even this many people at once. The look on her face was determined, however, and I quickly took a knee once more.
She lifted the sword from me and once again touched my shoulders with it. “Hector Kingsley, I knight you as a member of the Order of St. George.” At these words, the Emperor stirred restlessly, but she continued in a somewhat conciliatory voice. “Although I trust the only dragons you slay will deserve the honor.”
I felt fresh strength flood into me. Not even in my wildest dreams had I ever conceived of gaining such honors. Along with those feelings of triumph and power, I felt a wave of relief. The charges against me would now surely be dismissed, along with those against Patricia. We were safe.
Yet the Queen was not done. She spoke in a low voice, though her form was no longer visible. “Your first task is the rescue of my children. You will be greatly rewarded if you do so, and I will grant you—”
“The hand of Patricia Anderson in marriage!” Patricia’s brash voice cut the monarch of all the British Empire short, and every single person pivoted to stare at her in surprise. She shrugged, apparently unaffected by our shock. “What? The princess is only a toddler, so you can’t have her hand. It might as well be mine.”
Moses, still dazed from his wounds, spoke up before anyone else could. “Are you insane?”
“Oh hush. As if you didn’t know this was going to happen eventually, anyway.” A faint blush stained her cheeks, but her eyes were steady and daring as she looked back at me. “Besides, it’s traditional. A Knight is supposed to get a reward like this for rescuing a princess and slaying a dragon.”
There was a pause, and then Queen Victoria shimmered back into visibility for a moment. The Queen looked back at her husband, as if for some sort of confirmation. An increasingly exasperated Albert nodded, though he looked far from pleased. Victoria, for her part, seemed rather amused, though she seemed deathly serious as she turned back to me. “So be it. Your reward is this young woman’s hand in marriage if you succeed. Do you accept the task?”
It was hard to speak past the sudden, all-consuming fire in my throat. “I do, Your Majesty. With all my heart.”
The Queen seemed about to laugh, entirely out of character from what I knew of her. Then she nodded. “Then rise, Sir Kingsley. You have work to do.”
“So, how will you make the approach?”
We had gathered our forces on the main viewing platform, where Patricia had once watched me duel with Capitaine Chatelain. It was incredible to me to find that same officer looking at me as if I were his good friend and asking after my plans. “The Pegasus can hold the weight for both of us. Coronel Soares…can arrange for her own transport.”
The Coronel laughed, the same high twittering sound as always. “You are correct, little spy. Do not worry for me.”
Chatelain appeared to struggle slightly with his jealousy, which appeared to bother him more than the cut he’d received in his side. “You’re sure that only one can ride with you? Surely that will not be enough?”
“You are wounded, Capitaine.” I kept my voice level, and when his expression fell, I laid a hand on his shoulder. “You fought well before and won yourself much honor. There is no shame in letting others finish the job.”
“If you say so, Sir Kingsley.” The Capitaine seemed ill convinced, but he shook his head as if to clear it, and continued. “I would recommend that you approach the bridge from an angle. It will keep their sharpshooters from catching you in their sights, and you can reach the dragon before they realize it.”
“Thank you, Capitaine.” The Frenchman acknowledged the words with a simple nod, and then he went off to look over the work the technicians were doing on the remaining Pegasus. I felt mildly reassured to know that he was supervising them, given what had happened the last time I had ridden one.
He was not the only one to be rather unhappy with the arrangement. Patricia and Moses stood some distance away, embroiled in the sort of argument I was loath to involve myself in. The Marshall was also too wounded to join our mission, as the dragon’s attack had broken one of his arms, but that didn’t make him any more enthusiastic about his sister’s decision to join me. It had been hard to say which choice had upset him more, her decision to join the attack or to marry me.
I felt another wave of incredulity as I looked at her. What had possibly possessed her to make such a choice, I could hardly imagine, but I had to admit that I was more than happy with the arrangement. It almost felt as if I was in a dream, one whose conclusion I was more than enthusiastic to see the end to.
“Keep focused on the mission, little spy.” Soares giggled to herself, a curiously birdlike sound. “Though I guess you won’t be doing much spying anymore, will you?”
“Time will tell, Coronel.” I broke off my study of my newly betrothed with some difficulty and tried to ignore the heat in my cheeks. Coronel Soares was regarding me with a mixture of pity and amusement. “Thank you again for your help.”
“It is an honor.” She grinned. “I assume that you and your fiancée will rescue the hostages while I assault the bridge.”
“No, Coronel.” I shook my head and braced myself for the argument. “I was hoping you and Ms. Anderson would take care of that. Devonshire will be mine to manage, at least until the prince and princess are free.”
She blinked in surprise. “What? Why?”
“The assault on the bridge is only a distraction, Coronel.” I looked back into the distance, where Devonshire’s airship was still rapidly dwindling. “The true mission is to rescue the children. Once they are free and safe, the Royal Air Force can handle the dragon. He can’t fly on his own, after all.”
“True enough.” Soares seemed unconvinced, however. She eyed me critically. “Are you sure you can hold out for long enough? That dragon looked like he was more than willing to burn his own airship down to get to you.”
“All the more reason for me to confront him, then.” I shrugged. “Devonshire would likely seek me out no matter where I was, so better that I distract him while the two of you see to the hostages. I will hold his attention until you are both away and then make my own escape.” Privately, I doubted things would go that smoothly, but it would be best if the most competent warrior among us took care of the critical task of rescuing the children. Besides, Devonshire and I had business to settle which was long overdue.
“Still seems like we should have a little more backup, Hector. We are going after an entire airship, after all.” Despite her words, Patricia seemed more than relaxed about our upcoming mission. She had laid her rifle back across one shoulder, and she gave me a curiously bashful smile. It was hard not to be enraptured by the way a blush stained her cheeks. She and her brother had approached after the apparent resolution of their private disagreement. I had no doubts which of them had won the argument.
I shook myself out of my reverie. “There is a danger in approaching with too many people, Patricia. If Devonshire saw too many attackers, he might attempt something desperate with the hostages. Best to keep him overconfident and unprepared.”
“It’s still going to be rough, Kingsley.” Moses’ omission of my title was noted, but I dismissed it as an artifact of his frontier upbringing. His sullen examination of us was a bit less excusable. “Three people aren’t much when you’re talking about an entire crew of an airship.”
I strove for calm. “It should not be as challenging as all that, Mr. Anderson.” Moses looked at me curiously, and I made a dismissive gesture. “The men on the airship were very much a fallback plan for Devonshire. If they had been capable fighters, I believe he would have included them in his plans for the assassination. The fact that he did not, and that he is only relying on them now that the rest of his plans are falling through, means that we should be able to handle the majority of them easily.”
“There are still two of those conspirators that we haven’t identified, though, Hector.” Patricia idly stroked the trigger guard of her rifle. “That and the lady with the knives. And Devonshire himself, I suppose.”
“True.” The fact that I had been unable to face Hermiter in the ballroom still disturbed me. If I encountered her again, I was not entirely sure that I would survive the experience. I tried not to show how disturbing that possibility was to me. “All the same, we will need to be enough.”
Chatelain rejoined us, his face still unhappy. “The Pegasus is ready. It is time to go.”
“Very well, Capitaine.” I nodded to him, and then to the others. “Let us go.”
As the others walked over to the machine, Moses reached out and put a hand on my arm. I paused and looked back at him, surprised. “Take good care of her, Kingsley.”
I smiled. “Patricia is more than capable of caring for herself. She will be safe.”
“I don’t just mean on this mission.” He paused for a moment, as if gathering himself. “She’s trusting you. Don’t let her down.”
“I will not.” I let more seriousness fill my voice, and saw reassurance filter through his expression. Then I smiled. “Besides, I know full well what would happen if I did. I would not want to be on your bad side, Marshall.”
Moses broke into a crooked smile. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. You haven’t even met our father.” He laughed at my expression and then stepped back. “Get moving, deputy. The dragon’s waiting.”
Soon enough, I was flying the skies of London, chasing after the airship on the back of the Pegasus. Patricia rode just behind me, her arms locked rather firmly around my middle, while Soares winged her way through the air beside us. The air rushed by in a continual torrent as I pushed the machine to its very limits, hoping to catch the miserable crime lord long before he left the city limits.
There was little opportunity for conversation. Between the wind and the focus on our mission, the most we could do was exchange the occasional gesture and nod. All the same, I felt the warmth of Patricia’s embrace, and wondered exactly how I had become so fortunate in so little time. At the very least, I reflected, I had plenty of motivation to see the task through to the end.
We reached the airship just as it passed beyond the boundaries of London. It was still making good time, and for the moment, not another airship was in sight. It appeared that either the Royal Air Force had not responded to the situation, or they had been ordered to stand clear by the Queen. Either way, we were very much on our own.
The escaping airship was not a war vessel by any means. It had been converted from a simple merchant airship, clearly meant to be more of a cargo hauler than an invincible fortress in the sky. Perhaps it had started life as an honest trading craft before Hermiter had converted it into a smuggler’s tool, but either way, I could already see several points where the others could enter. Soares seemed to throw her head back and laugh in contempt at the thing, as if it were a mockery of the challenges she had already faced in the air during the New War.
I was not quite so sanguine. The airship had multiple landing platforms, likely for smaller vessels to dock and offload cargo. There were already members of Devonshire’s crew gathering on them, the long shapes of rifles in their arms. When I pointed them out to Soares, she merely shook her head and laughed again, though the actual sounds of her merriment were carried away by the wind. Then she gestured to the platforms along the starboard side, and then to herself. The port platforms she seemed to disregard entirely.
Then she climbed, accelerating at a rate that the Pegasus simply could not seem to match. She rapidly turned into a near invisible speck high above us, likely invulnerable to any attempt at counterattack. My own role was quite clear; if the marksmen on the airship needed a target, I would have to provide one.
It was not a role I embraced enthusiastically. Aside from my own obvious mortality, I had Patricia’s life to worry about as well. The Pegasus was nowhere near as agile as the Coronel had been and was likely not as effective in my inexperienced hands as it could have been. All of which were factors that I would have preferred to not have to deal with during the course of our assault.
Unfortunately, there were no other options. As we closed with the airship, I began to roll the Pegasus back and forth, presenting an obvious target to the riflemen ahead. There were at least ten of them; they had congregated along the port and starboard decks, and I could already see the flashes of rifle shots as a few of their number fired early; their shots proved to be ill-aimed and easily avoided, almost to the point where I could afford to ignore them entirely.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
What truly attracted my attention was the bridge, however. It was a squat, blockish structure that rose above the envelope of the airship. It had another platform on the top, though it was much smaller than the others, as if it was meant for much more limited use. Several marksmen were already rushing to their positions, readying to fire at me as I approached. I even suspected I could see Devonshire waiting behind their ranks.
There was nothing I could do about the marksmen, however; flying the Pegasus and avoiding incoming fire demanded my concentration. What I did manage to provide, however, was a stable shooting platform. Just as the first bullets began to draw closer to us, whistling by in the howling air, I heard Patricia’s rifle roar as she returned fire for the first time.
The closest rifleman abruptly clutched at his arm and dropped his weapon. I half-turned to congratulate Patricia on her shot, but she knocked me on the head with one knuckle and gestured for me to focus on the flying. Her next shot took another crewman in the chest. The third and fourth knocked over a third crewman; the fourth riflemen on the starboard side abruptly abandoned his place and sprinted for the interior of the airship.
His retreat occurred at exactly the right time. No sooner had he turned to run than Coronel Soares made her sudden reappearance, shrieking down from on high like an angel of war. She struck the starboard portion of the airship as if she was a cannon ball, smashing her way through one of the observation bubbles. There was a moment of shock as the remaining riflemen on the upper deck shouted in alarm. Then I saw a crewman tossed screaming from a shattered window, and realized the Soares had not only survived her entry into the vessel, she had already started her search for the captured royals.
A near miss whistled by my ear, and I found my attention captivated once again by the remaining rifleman. Patricia exchanged shots with them, felling at least two more, but as we drew closer to the airship, their accuracy began to greatly improve. I fought to convince the Pegasus to climb, fighting to gain a bit more distance with altitude, but the device could only fly so high, and so I was forced to level off and hope that we continued to be lucky.
My hopes were dashed moments later when a bullet impacted solidly on the Pegasus’ underside. It sounded like a brutal hammerblow, and my fragile hope that the device remained intact was quickly dashed as the thing began shaking. A trail of grey smoke began to stream out behind us.
I assessed our position and the relative lack of stability for the Pegasus, and glanced back at Patricia. She was sighting in on another target, and her rifle roared again as she pulled the trigger, Far below, I had no doubt another crewman had fallen, but I motioned to her urgently, and then pointed at the starboard viewing deck, where Soares was fighting. Finally, I raised a fist, and risked taking my hands off the controls of the Pegasus to pantomime a gliding descent.
Patricia shook her head, stubbornly gesturing with her rifle. Another bullet struck us, and the Pegasus began to belch black smoke. I shook my head and gestured downwards again. She rolled her eyes and then gave me a kiss on the cheek that undid much of the chill from the wind. A moment later, she raised her hand, activated the Icarus, and launched herself into a shallow glide that would end on the starboard landing platform.
I watched her descend for a moment, and then set myself to a new task: making sure that Devonshire’s remaining marksmen had a more tempting target than my fiancée. Diving down toward the airship, I flew directly at the upper platform, as if I meant to smash the device into it. The marksmen yelled and some of them dove for cover, the few shots aimed in my direction going wide.
Pulling up at the last moment, I saw the Pegasus’ hooves strike sparks from the railing of the platform. I felt a wild, reckless grin spread across my face, even as I heard a familiar, draconic voice bellowing orders to the thugs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the golden light of the Icarus descending toward the platform, completely unmolested.
As I brought the Pegasus up and around, the target I presented had to have been irresistible. More bullets whined through the air, barely missing me. At least two more found their mark, one of them slamming into the Pegasus’ neck just in front of me. The mechanical beast shook even worse, and I felt the wings falter slightly as I came back around to face the marksmen one last time.
Between the smoke and the vibrations, it was already quite clear to me that the Pegasus was doomed. At the same time, I had to prevent the marksmen from remaining at their post. Even if Patricia had managed to reach the landing safely, both she and Soares had instructions to take the children with them and escape if they found them. I would not have put it past Devonshire to instruct his riflemen to shoot them from the sky if given the opportunity.
For that reason, I spurred the Pegasus on, and aimed it straight back at the bridge for one last flight.
They likely suspected that I meant to land on the roof of the airship, and then calmly try to cut my way to the bridge below. It would have been the rational plan to pursue if our plan was to usurp control of the craft.
Unfortunately, my goal was to distract, not to conquer, and so rather than sweeping up and over the railing to confront the armed thugs, I aimed the Pegasus directly at the large windows of the bridge and accelerated the mechanical beast as fast as I could. The gearworks of the thing whirred to a near scream, and I heard the riflemen fire at me in distant pops. None of them appeared to be able to track me properly, and even if they had, I had no expectations for the device to survive the next few seconds, anyway.
When I reached the point of no return, I pulled the Pegasus sideways, tilting it over on its side as it pivoted. The maneuver did little to change the path of my flight; after all, momentum had me in its grip, and I had left the change far too late. Just before impact, I leaped off the Pegasus, feeling a hint of regret as I did so, for the thing had been a fine piece of artifice and ingenuity, and I had now destroyed two of them.
The result, however, was more than worth the sacrifice. Thick layers of glass shattered like porcelain as the Pegasus tore through them. It hurtled into the command deck, trailing a shower of lethal glass shards and fragmented steel beams. I followed just behind that deadly rain, hoping against all hope that I wouldn’t land too awkwardly among the rubble.
My hopes were somewhat dashed as I nearly immediately rolled through what seemed like a pile of sharpened spikes. I identified it as remnants of the window, spread across the small walkway where I made contact, but that realization did little to dull the pain of a half dozen cuts and stabs that seemed to light my entire back and shoulders aflame. Worse, my roll nearly took me to the edge of the walkway, forcing me to dent the railing in order to stop myself from cartwheeling into the empty space beyond. The blow knocked the wind from me, leaving me gasping for breath for several moments.
Fortunately, none of the crew had been prepared to attack me at that moment. Several of them had been in the path of the now wrecked Pegasus, which had torn through the pilot’s station and half the bridge before coming to a rest in a tangle of twisted metal and blood. Others had been sprayed by glass or other assorted shrapnel and had been laid low as effectively as by a round of grapeshot.
Those that remained, however, recovered almost as quickly as I did, and they rushed at me with foul oaths and bestial screams. Their hatred most decidedly did not lend them strength or skill, however, and the moment I freed Damocles from its sheath, their fate was more than sealed. Boarding hooks, cutlasses, and pistols were more than enough for the average criminal’s work, but against a man armed with a Distillation forged blade, they were barely more threatening than bare fists.
I cut down the first three crewmen to charge me, and then the rest fled, leaving me to stagger slightly and get my bearings. The airship had begun to list slightly; apparently one of the last movements their pilot had made was to jerk to the side, so their steadfast flight to the south had suddenly become a gentle, curving course out to the west. Any hope of changing that course had been effectively lost; not only had the pilot’s station been obliterated by my entrance, but most of the rest of the controls on the bridge as well.
All of which meant that even if Devonshire somehow managed to drive off our assault, his plan to escape aboard the vessel was doomed. It had required the sacrifice of my only method of leaving the craft myself, but his plans had finally been utterly ruined at last.
My smile was still blooming on my face when I heard boots on the metal above me. I realized that the pillar where the Pegasus had finally stopped contained a spiraling staircase that led to the roof. The wreckage did little to stop the riflemen which had so inconvenienced me from spilling out onto the bridge. Their enraged shouts told me I had little to gain from allowing them time to process the disaster, and so I charged.
One of them saw me coming at them and fired his rifle. Unfortunately for him, the shot missed badly, and I was on him and his fellows before he had the chance to adjust his aim. My movements seemed unnaturally fast, despite my injuries, a fact that I put down to the exhilaration of surviving the crash of the previous moments. Who could blame me for feeling some measure of excitement in such circumstances?
There were three riflemen left after Patricia’s work, and I grinned to myself as I cut through the rifle and torso of the first. The second tried to bring his gun up to fire, and was cut down for his trouble; the third dropped his gun and ran.
I took a handful of steps after him, only to duck as a pistol shot whined off the metal of the staircase. The shot had come from a fourth man, who had apparently waited behind the rest, but a mere pistol was not going to stop me. Devonshire was obviously still waiting for me above, and nothing but an entire platoon was going to keep me from him.
The next shot I cut from the air with Damocles; the next went wide as I rushed the staircase and the thug panicked. I heard him shout a warning to his fellows, and his boots clattered on the metal as he tried to backpedal up the spiraling steps. My own boots sounded like hammerblows as I tore up the staircase after him, ready to cut him down.
There was a dreadful inhalation of air, the only real warning of what was to come. Luckily, some small portion of me recognized what it foretold, and I threw myself from the staircase just in time. The mercenaries still on the stairs screamed as a torrent of dark fire poured down from above. It gave no quarter to anything it encountered, and the cries of horror were abruptly cut off as the staircase—and anyone still upon it—crumbled to half-melted, burning rubble.
Once again, I rolled across the glass-strewn wreckage, and once again a litany of wounds accumulated on my arms and shoulders. Still, the alternative had been annihilation, and so I considered my situation quite fortuitous as I once again came to my feet. After all, my real objective had now been met. Devonshire had officially devoted all his attention to me.
The dragon himself soon made his entrance, drifting down from the hole left by the ruined staircase. He shook off some streamers of fire that clung to his once-fine clothes and finally discarded his cape entirely with a snort of annoyance. His movements were overly casual, as if he was mildly put out by the day’s events. When he met my eyes, however, I could see a boundless amount of fury there, a rage that would never be sated, not even with my destruction. “Kingsley.”
I nodded to him, determined not to let the pain of my mounting list of injuries show. “Devonshire.”
His lips quirked in bitter amusement. “You have been a rather…unfortunate obstacle to my plans, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Actually, it’s Sir Kingsley now.” I saw that bottomless anger deepen slightly, but I did not flinch from it. “You might not have heard, of course, what with you running for your life.”
Devonshire began to circle, and I responded in kind, both of us studying the other for a sign of weakness. “You know, Kingsley, we could not be more different, you and I.”
“Finally, something we can agree on.”
“It isn’t a matter of skill, or even of potential. I have no doubt that you would excel at whatever small-minded enterprise you set yourself to.” He snorted in derision. “It is a question of vision, of dedication. You would allow yourself to be so limited by rules, by imagined morals, that you could never achieve what I have done. Not in a thousand years. It will always be beyond you.”
I grunted, more for the fact that my foot had slipped on a larger shard of the window than for his arrogance. “Is that so?”
“Of course.” He spread his hands wide, as if to encompass the entire ruined bridge. “Look what you’ve done here. The work of so many years, so much effort, to cause a change in the world. To build something new, something the world has never before seen! And you ruined it. You ruined it all because of your stupid, narrow-minded—”
“If you wouldn’t mind, Devonshire, I’d really rather not discuss things with you.” I paused, watching his figure framed by the blazing sunset and the broken windows of the bridge. “The matter seems perfectly clear to me. You wished to set yourself as a new king through murder, deceit, and treachery, while I was more than happy to stop you, if only because I frankly dislike everything about you. Does it need to be more complicated than that?”
Devonshire stared at me, surprise overtaking his anger for a few precious heartbeats. Then his anger twisted his features, and whatever modicum of self-control appeared to give way. It was like watching a dam give way before a flood, and it did my heart good to see the hatred plain on his features at last. “Your ‘dislike’ has cost me more than you will ever know, you cretin. Before I’m done, you will beg for death and be grateful when I grant it to you.”
I shrugged, enjoying the moment far more than I should. “How kind of you to be so generous.” My sword came up in a salute, and I met his eyes with a very level stare. “I’m afraid that I will not be so patient with you. Let us end this quickly.”
He snarled, apparently beyond words for the moment, and he rushed at me with his hands outstretched. I waited until he was nearly upon me and then swung Damocles directly at his head. For a singular moment, I hoped his unmitigated arrogance would have delivered him into my hands just that easily, but at the last second the man twisted to the side and evaded my blade.
Then it was my turn to step aside as he lunged at me, his left arm lashing out in a clawing motion. I spun aside, using the motion to bring Damocles back around and up. The cut could have taken his arm off at the elbow, but he stopped short and sucked in a telling breath. My next motion was an all-out leap, something which barely saved me from incineration as he melted a hole in the bulkhead behind me.
Fortunately, I kept my feet this time, despite sliding in the glass. As he let the flames die, I lunged at him, trying once more to cut him across the torso. He stepped back quickly and batted Damocles aside before lashing out at my face.
This time I moved too slowly, and his backhanded blow knocked me staggering backwards across the deck. My vision swam, and by the time I had recovered my sight enough, Devonshire was already preparing to breathe his terrible fire once more. There was little hope I would be able to dodge, not at such a close range and not with so little time.
So instead, I withdrew the brass knuckles from the pocket I had concealed them in, and jabbed him directly in the chin.
The blow appeared to catch him completely unawares, and his jaw clicked shut with the kind of force I would normally associate with broken teeth. He staggered backward, and the stream of flame briefly shot out to the side. When he struggled to bring it back in line with me, I cut at his head with a horizontal strike that would have taken his head off. He declined that opportunity by ducking beneath the blow, only to find that I had followed the strike with a brutal uppercut that caught him in the stomach.
I very nearly felt the impact in my own belly as he folded up around the punch, and there was pain in his howls now. True to my word, I turned to slash down at him and end it, but he was not yet ready for the end. Still half-curled up around his stomach, Devonshire belched fire straight at the deck between us, forcing me to retreat in order to avoid a wash of dark flame.
Most unfortunately, he continued burning the deck, turning his head this way and that until the melted hole formed a great chasm of ruined metal plates, softened and melted by the heat. Burning remnants of metal fell to the lower decks, running like water from the edges of that ruined fissure, and the air shimmered with heat above it between us.
Then the fire finally ended, and the dragon sucked in a deep, painful breath before he straightened up. He swiped a sleeve across his mouth and spat blood. The glare he gave me spoke of an eternal enmity, one that would likely last long after either of us departed the mortal plane. “You can’t beat me, Kingsley. I am more than you will ever be.”
I studied him for another moment, letting the heat of the melted plates cool, hoping that the curling edges of the floor would stop burning into the decks below us. What would happen if that hot metal hit the envelope was something that did not truly bear thinking on. My thoughts went from those consequences to all the lives Devonshire had touched, had ruined. The students at Everston, Benjamin and his contacts, Francis and his family, all of them had suffered and would continue to suffer if he lived. I saw buildings burn, assassins strike, nations fall.
Then I saw, in my mind’s eye, Patricia. She’d nearly died, and he would threaten her again if he could. It needed to end, here and now.
I set myself and started toward the gap. “I thought I told you, I’m not just Kingsley anymore.” Then I started to sprint, closing the distance so quickly that I could feel the deck shake under my feet. The bridge around me blurred, and I saw Devonshire’s eyes widen. “It’s Sir Kingsley now, dragon!”
My feet hit the edge of the melted deck, and I leapt across the gap. Devonshire backed up, his eyes widening further, and he stumbled slightly as he backpedaled for distance. Damocles cut down toward his head as if it were an executioner’s axe, and I could see its razor edge reflected in his eyes.
Then he breathed fire once more, and I swung early. Sword and fire met, and for a moment it seemed as if the blade could divide the flames before me.
Then Damocles snapped, and there was an explosion of blinding light. It very nearly threw me back across the gap, and my smoking form only just rolled to a stop just at the edge of the burnt metal, which had thankfully cooled in its new, half-melted shape. Only a desperate, scrabbling grab kept me from sliding partway over the edge. The hilt of my sword, now ending in just half an inch of steel, fell from my hand and skidded past me, vanishing into the gulf below.
As I tried to rise again, Devonshire’s laugh echoed across the bridge to me. “See? You and your pitiful sword could never touch me. Not in a thousand…”
His voice faltered, and I looked up to see him frown. Devonshire seemed slightly confused, as if something new had occurred to him, and both our gazes dropped to his chest. The top half of Damocles’ blade was buried there, and there was a rapidly spreading bloodstain across his fine shirt.
He looked up at me, and I could see a sudden fear in his eyes. It was as if a whole new perspective of the world had opened to him, and what he now saw caused him nothing but regret. The dragon coughed, his eyes growing desperate. “No. I had so much to do. There was so…much…”
Then he focused on me again, and his hatred returned. “You.”
I watched him stagger across the deck towards me, his legs growing more unsteady as he came. He reached me just as I managed to stand upright, teetering on the edge of the chasm he had made, and I grunted as he grabbed the front of my coat. “You’ve ruined everything! Everything!”
Steadfastly ignoring the incredible rash of injuries and pain that had spread across my entire body, I met his eyes with a smirk. “Good.”
Then I slammed the brass knuckles into side of his head. Devonshire’s already fragile grip on my shirt went limp, and I pivoted to let him fall past me into the abyss. I did not watch him fall, but the ringing impact told me all I needed to know. It was over. The dragon was dead.
I made it three steps from the edge before I felt my strength abandon me and fell face forward to the deck.
Fortunately, I did manage to catch myself on my hands and knees, otherwise my position would have been quite a bit less than dignified. I remained there for a few more moments, unable to move due to the waves of pain crashing over my body. Then I slowly forced my way to my feet, staggering down a flight of stairs towards the nearest exit.
To my surprise, the door slammed open as a body hurled through it. As the figure rolled to a stop, I had enough time to recognize Lady Hermiter and groan. I was in no condition to confront Devonshire’s accomplice, even if she no longer had whatever power had prevented me from confronting her earlier. She did not share my reluctance, however; as soon as she came up into a crouch, the smuggler charged me with both daggers drawn.
She took only two steps before a rifle cracked, producing an echoing sound like the sky splitting open. Hermiter lurched to the side, and then fell to the deck. I stared in surprise, half-expecting her to rise again, but she went totally, terribly still.
Then Patricia strode through the open door, her rifle on her shoulder and a satisfied expression on her face. “Gotcha. We’ll have no more of that.” She looked over at me and raised a critical eyebrow. “Hey. All done here, Hector?”
I looked from her to the dead smuggler, and then back at the melted hole where Devonshire’s corpse had vanished. Then I returned my gaze to her. “Yes. Quite.”
She nodded. “Good. Soares already flew off with the prince and the princess; she said she could handle both of them, at least until she reached the ground. The Icarus didn’t seem to like being used so often, so we’ll need to find our own way off this place. Does that Pegasus of yours still work?”
Feeling somewhat sheepish, I glanced back at the smoldering wreckage behind me. “Ah, not exactly.”
“Well, nuts.” Patricia looked nonplussed for a second, and then she shrugged. “Then I guess we’re stuck here, at least until the cavalry comes. I reckon that Soares might let the Air Force know they can move in, but just in case, I had someone send a message to Daniel to come up with a way for us to…” She trailed off as I approached her. “Hector? You all right?”
Before she could protest, I caught her up in my arms and kissed her. For that one wonderful moment, the pain of my wounds faded, until it was a dull echo of itself tucked into the back of my mind. The awareness of the danger we still faced now faded, despite the reality that some unfortunate thug might stumble upon us at any moment.
Then we pulled back, and I smiled. “Have I told you just how beautiful you are, Patricia Anderson?”
Her blush was a wonderful thing to behold. “Not enough, Hector, but I’ll let you make up for lost time.”
“I will.” I smiled and touched my forehead to hers for a moment. Then I stepped back. “Of course, you have only one true imperfection. One blemish on an otherwise perfect soul.”
Patricia’s previous pleasure faded abruptly. She frowned at me, and her voice now carried a rather dangerous undertone. “And what is that, might I ask?”
“Your last name. It just won’t do, I’m afraid.” I bent my knee, trying desperately to ignore the way the rest of me wanted to follow it to the ground. “Patricia Anderson, I’ve been promised your hand in marriage by a very reliable source. Will you be my wife?”
She took my hand, her smile equal parts amused and irritated. “I surely will.” I kissed the back of her hand and stood, feeling somewhat invigorated.
Then I nearly fell flat on my face, but Patricia managed to get a shoulder under my arm before I completely collapsed. I grinned at her. “Just overcome with relief, my dear.”
“That or the blood loss.” She grunted and shifted my weight under her. We began a hobbling, halting journey toward the exit for the bridge. If Daniel was coming for us, he’d probably want to land on an unbroken platform with no sharpshooters on it, after all. “You really need to look for a better way to do business, Kingsley. At the very least, you need to negotiate a bit better wage the next time you save the world.”
“This time, I found everything I could have ever wanted, Patricia, but perhaps you are right. I think perhaps it is time to settle down, in more ways than one.” She rolled her eyes, and I continued in what I hoped was a persuasive tone. “Perhaps a school of some sort? I would want to pass on our knowledge to the next generation, after all.”
She paused, and an explosion of some sort echoed through the airship. “A school? You want me to be a teacher too?”
“Both of us. Between other work, of course.” I smiled at her. “We wouldn’t want the adventures to end after all.”
Patricia smiled. “As if I would ever let them.” She paused to consider me for a moment. “And of course we’ll have to organize the wedding. Might as well get started on that now; they’ll be plenty of people to invite…”
Then she laughed, obviously amused by the expression on my face. “Oh, cheer up, it can’t be that bad. I’ll even get you a nice sword and a shiny suit of armor. Does that make it better?”
I found myself absurdly contented with this offer, though for the life of me I could not say why. She laughed again, though softer this time, and I began to feel somewhat unhappy about my own confusion. “As…nice…as such as gift would be, I hardly think it would fit the occasion.”
Patricia’s laughter turned to chuckles, and she shook her head. “No, I’d think it would fit a Knight just fine, actually.” I heard the strange emphasis on the word a second time and looked at her in beleaguered curiosity. She chuckled a bit and then leaned close to tell me the secret she’d heard when I’d handed the Sybil back to her, that now-distant day in Francis’ new home.
And for me, for the third time that day, the world was forever Changed.